Unlikey Pair
by Mallie-3
Summary: Dark pasts, uncertain futures for two completely different people dealing with a threat that may change their lives forever. My take on those mysterious three years. Created in response to the Light/Dark Challenges on "We're Just Saiyan".
1. Chapter 1

**Unlikely Pair**

_Chapter One_

_Word Count:__ 2,556_

_Warnings:__ This story will contain sexual content and violence. If you do not like dark content, please do not read this story. Anyone under the age of 18 please shy away, thank you. _

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own DBZ or any of the characters associated with the Anime/Manga._

_Authors Note:__ Many of my stories are unfinished and will be for a while, but on my 'mission' to cleanse my 'pallet' per say, I have decided to write something I am NOT comfortable with because of the fact that there are so many! Anyway, this is my take on the three-year gap, which I will be completing on a smaller scale. My chapters will be no less than 2,000 words and no more than 3,000. These "drabbles" will be based on the On-going Dark/Light challenge created by Maddie-san on the "We're Just Saiyan" community. Thank you for reading. Again, I am testing the waters of the DBZ world again… and what better way than with a three-year? I'm crazy…_

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oOoOoOo

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It had been a little over three months since the Saiyan-jin prince had crash landed, and graced those who resided at Capsule Corp with his presence. Dirty, sleep deprived and agitated as usually, the Saiyan-jin prince marched into their lives and not much had changed since. He had eaten, showered and demanded equipment for his training. Tirelessly, Bulma and her father worked, obligated for the sake of their planet to give into his desires. Even through it wasn't outwardly expressed, she feared for her life. Each time the planet was at risk, she felt that dark presence grip her heart, making her feel weak, helpless, giving even a man like Vegeta, anything he so desired. Yes, she was a smart woman, but even that couldn't compare with brute strength that these beings were supposedly bringing with him in a few short years.

Android that was what the lavender haired man from the future had told them. All the Z members had gone their separate ways, hoping to strengthen over the next three years. Would it be enough? Bulma wasn't sure. Some nights she would sit upon her deck and look to the sky, as if for some miraculous reason an answer would pop out, explaining to her what she needed to do to keep her friends and family safe. It was quite possible that they would die. If Goku didn't get over this supposed sickness, they were all lost. The journey that young man had taken would have been in vein. Kami only knew that without Goku, Vegeta would be lost as well. Their planet's stability would be lost. Their hopes now rested upon the shoulders of one man… Son, Goku, though her mind hadn't been focused on just Goku.

_That boy…_

Lavender hair, mysterious…yet those blue eyes held something. They had spoken to her. Trust didn't come easy for Bulma Briefs, and for some reason this future man had drawn her in with his plea. How terrible things must be in the future, to force an individual to travel through time and space just to deliver a message. To get one glimpse, that was all she wished. Maybe that would really provoke progress in the fighters. Kami, her mind was everywhere lately. She worried about her family, her friends, her life. Everything was at stake. Never had something like this happened before. A warning from the future should be taken seriously, which no one disregarded it. They all had acted, especially Vegeta, who wished to increase his power exponentially, which Bulma felt it was because of the simple fact that Goku was now a Super Saiya-jin. Sure, he would fight, but training was for something completely different than their current predicament.

_That man…_

He had been training night and day. Breaking things was a daily routine. If something didn't get broken, Bulma became worried. There came a time that she had to see him at least two times daily, or she would have to check on him. Like a child, silence was a bad sign. Roughed up, sweaty, and angry with the world he would retire to his rooms each night and rouse at first light. How could anyone put their body through such stress?

_Are you a fool?_

_Do you even realize what you are doing to your body?_

It was the same old things, the same old complaints. At one point she didn't even bother anymore. Who was she to tell him how to live his life? If he wanted to get no more than three hours a sleep a night, eat rarely, and bathe even less…that was his prerogative. She steered clear, angered with his use of profanity and threats directed mainly at her, stupid baka, blue haired wench, Yamacha's whore…that was her, which soon the name calling switched to terrible threats in which she had never heard directed toward her before. Why had she suggested he stay? Because he had nowhere else to turn, that was why. Her silly infatuation to that broken man was pathetic, and now she was seeing how broken he really was. He was an alien. She had grown up in privilege, where he had grown up a prince, stripped of his title and tossed to the dogs. He had been under the watchful eye of a tyrant for most of his life, fighting for favor so he could live another day and avenge his father's death, or so he had told Goku upon his own death on Planet Namek. Who was even sure the asshole was telling the truth? He was a murderer, someone who couldn't be trusted. Either way, she knew they needed him when the androids arrived. The brute strength of both Goku and Vegeta together would benefit the Z fighters in the end, two strong saiyan-jin warriors. Once this was done and the Androids were rid of, she would rid of him as well.

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Bulma wrapped her house coat around her body as she approached the kitchen sink. Flipping it on, the cool water poured out, coating the bottom. Rubbing her tired eyes, she glanced in the direction of a brightly illuminated clock, which read '3:22 AM'. So early in the morning, and she had woken up because of her dry scratchy throat. She had practically been dreaming of a cool glass of water, which woke her from a deep sleep.

Sliding the glass underneath the steam, she filled it completely full and pressed the cool glass to her dry lips, gulping it down. Opening her crystal blue eyes, she sighed, pouring the remaining water back into the sink. Lifting her eyes, her line of vision directed toward the humming gravity machine, except for…it was no longer humming. The moment she had walked into the kitchen, she had sworn she had heard it. The lights were completely off and no sound radiated from its mass. Frowning slightly, Bulma brushed a few strands of blue hair from her face and directed it behind her ear. Sliding her slipperier feet across the tiled floor, she moved toward the side door her hand pressed hard to force it open. Cracking it slightly, Bulma leaned out and listened.

Yep, the machine had been powered down. She honestly wasn't surprised. This was usually the time that he powered the damn thing down anyway, but who was she to say anything on what time he turned it on and off? She honestly didn't care. Pulling the door close, she quickly locked it. A slam and then the soft sound of shuffling feet caught her attention. Her lips dropped open slightly, feeling fully alert now that she had been caught off guard. Stepping forward, Bulma moved with persistence through her family home. Upon entering the main hall, her eyes were drawn to a dark splatter mark trailed the floor and entering the side hallway, which in turn led to their bedrooms.

Frowning deeply, the blue haired heiress wrapped her arms around her body approaching pools upon the floor. Leaning in, Bulma began to inspect the dark patches. Pressing her fingers to it, she gasped upon feeling the warmth of the substance. It didn't take long for her brain to register what it was. The substances upon the floor were _blood stains_, indeed. Grunting and feeling a cold shiver travel the length of her body, Bulma stood quickly and rushed toward the dark hallway, completely disregarding the fact that she had blood covering her fingers.

Her eyes widened, trying to find her way down the dimness of the hallways. She reached for the wall, flipping on a light. The soft glow of the hall light brought her attention to the blood droplets coating the entire length of the hallway and disappeared through a closed door, the closed door of the Saiyan-jin prince. A burst of air escaped her lips, feeling overwhelmed. She didn't want to invade his space, but what if he was dead? That much blood was a serious matter for most humans; then again he was a Saiya-jin. Tightening her jaw, the blue haired woman tightened her fists at her side and approached the door with purpose.

Gripping the door handle, Bulma closed her eyes for only a brief moment before pushing it open. Her form was brightly illuminated, making her look like a dark figure upon arriving. Her eyes skimmed the room, taking notice of the dark figure slouching upon the bed. He was moving, no doubt about that. The man ceased his movements, tilting his head to glance in the direction of whoever dared to bother him this early in the morning.

"Vegeta," Bulma whispered softly, hoping he would do something, say something. Anything would do, even a curse or a threat like he unusually did.

"Why the fuck are you here? Didn't I tell you never to bother me again? Do you remember what I said would happen…,"

"Are you ok?" Bulma interrupted him, which he only rewarded her with a dark growl of anger, "I just need to know if you are ok. There are blotches of blood covering the entire length of the damn hallway; I don't care what you say at the moment. Let me check on you," Bulma approached, seeing him sink away from her almost instantly. Not only that, but she felt something in the air. An electrical charge was apparent. The hairs upon the back of her neck were literally on end with the amount of energy he was putting out. He hadn't powered up, but he was definitely allowing his anger to get the better of him.

Glancing up, Vegeta's cold black eyes searched her face as a snarl formed upon his pursed lips. He was acting like a caged animal. For god sakes, the man was moving away from her like she was there to hurt him. Shaking her head, Bulma reached out slowly. She had taken notice that his arm and leg were injured, which was most likely the culprit for the blood splatter.

"Come on, let me just take a look. You know how persistent I am," Bulma tried to offer a soft smile, but it faded as his unblinking black gaze burned into her soul with a mere look that made her feel completely uncomfortable and not at all in control of the situation at hand.

"I said 'no', you fucking fool," Vegeta sneered, holding his arm tightly to his blood stained attire.

"Do you want to bleed out?" Bulma's blue eyes flashed angrily.

"I won't bleed out, female. I have been in worse shape," Vegeta snapped harshly.

"Gods," Bulma breathed soft, allowing her mind to fill with all sorts of terrible things. She couldn't even imagine the things Frieza had done to him and the others working under him. No wonder he was so…

"Leave," Vegeta snapped once again, pushing up from his seated position and nearly towering over her now trembling form, "Now."

Bulma looked up, meeting his blood thirsty stare, glancing down upon the bed noticing the ring of blood covering her parent's nice sheets. Swallowing hard, she began to breathe heavily, unsure of how to approach this situation any longer. The man was angry she had invaded his space once again. His muscles were tightly clenched and the look of his tightly held fists gave her the idea he would and could use them on her. One blow and she was done for, that much was certain.

"I will leave," Bulma nodded quickly, wrapped her arms around her body as if to protect herself from harm, "But, you really shouldn't let that go, Vegeta. You need assistance…why can't you accept…,"

Her body flew through the air, crashing against the nearest wall. Her arched back slid flat against the _blank_ walls. Her eyes were tightly clenched and a loud shriek escaped her lips. Her breathing had become erratic without even noticing. In a blink of an eye this murderer had her pressed against the wall, which had been a good five steps away. The iron smell of blood filled her flared nostrils. Groaning and trying to turn her head, a hand stopped the motion, gripping around her slender throat and forcing her eyes away from him.

The Saiya-jin prince leaned in, practically feeling the heat from his face upon her cheek as if he was touching her, scotching her. Those crazed eyes looked her over as he heavily breathed against the skin of her cheek, "I could kill you. I told you what would happen if you crossed me. I need silence, female. I need space. I do not wish to hear your pathetic complaints daily. I am a god damned warrior, not a child who needs to be watched over." He raised his voice, nearly shouting in her ear, which Bulma quivered, shaking her head back and forth, wincing upon hearing his complaint, "What did I tell you I would do?" He repeated once again, stroking his rough thumb over her pulse.

Bulma swallowed, moving her legs up and down as she tried to force this pathetic fear from her body and answer the damned man, "You…you would kill my family." She forced from her lips, closing her eyes as his fingers tightened. Breathing was becoming slightly more difficult.

"Yes, and what else?" He asked.

Shaking her head, "No, I won't say it. You don't mean it. You are being…," He nearly snarled in her face, forcing her neck straight as he now looked directly into her watery blue eyes.

"What did I tell you?" Vegeta shouted at her, taking his opposite hand and gripping her cheeks, smudging blood across the length of her face and upon her parted lips.

Pursing her lips tight upon tasting the tang of his blood, Bulma glared up at him, "I was only trying to make sure you are still alive and this is what I get? A threat against my family? I will not say it, Vegeta, because I know you won't do it," she took in a deep breath, searching the dark orbs which were currently filled with anger.

"You don't think so?" The Saiya-jin Prince's eyes widened in shock.

"Fine, if you are going to fuck me into submission, go for it. I am here." Bulma whispered, reaching up a shaky hand and gripping his bloody arm. Sliding a hand up toward his wrist, Bulma gripped it, pulling it with ease away from her neck and trailed it down the length of her body in the direction of her core, "I am not wearing anything under this, it will be easy," the blue haired human admitted, "Go ahead, oh great Saiya-jin Prince."

Pulling his hand away and shooting her a glare of disgust, Vegeta thrust her to the ground and shifted toward his double doors, flinging them open. The flamed haired man took for the starry sky, not once looking back at the shocked form of the human upon his bedroom floor. Bulma slowly glanced up, watching as a streak of KI shot across the sky. She had pushed him too far, but she supposed that was what he deserved after threatening her and her family. Such crude threats if you asked her. Pushing up off the floor, Bulma reached up and swiped a hand across her face, trying to rid her cheek of his blood.

He would be back…

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oOoOoOo

-Mallie-3


	2. Chapter 2

_**Unlikely Pair**_

_Chapter 2_

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own DBZ or any of the characters associated with the Anime/Manga._

_Authors Note:__ I hope to keep the momentum. Thanks for reading._

_Prompts:__**Flesh Wound**__ and __**Bandages**__ (Story created for the 'We're Just Saiyan' community Dark/Light Challenges)_

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…oOoOoOo…

The white tip of a cigarette pressed tightly to a pair of rose petal lips. Wrapping them lightly around the tip, Bulma took a deep drag of the freshly lit tobacco. The bright gleam of the embers caught her attention. She watched as the smoke rippled and escaped from the corners of her mouth before allowing the thick, white smoke down into her lungs. Closing her crystal blue eyes, Bulma enjoyed the release of tension, specifically given to her only when a cigarette was concerned, either that of a nice glass of wine, which she was also enjoying. A nasty habit, yes, a habit she had took a liking too early on in her career.

A puff of white smoke escaped her pink, parted lips. The cloud surrounded her briefly before dissipating into the air around her. Her free hand skimmed over the soft skin of her forehead, kneading the flesh, forcing away the dull pain throbbing behind her blood shot eyes. This stress was more than she could handle. Too much was going on around her lately. Her mind had been wracked with their impending doom, Yamcha, and the Saiya-jin who came and went when he so chose.

That pathetic man, he hadn't shown his face in weeks. Not since their little encounter. Yes, he had scared her out of her wits, making her feel completely defenseless. Who was she kidding; he was a Saiya-jin, a Saiya-jin who would easily kill her with one powerful blast to the heart. She had seen some and heard about all the terrible things he had done to those around her. How ironic it was, to have a man wanting so badly to destroy their planet, murder her best childhood friend, and then make off into deep space, yet he stuck around and Goku didn't even flinch because of one heroic action on his part. What did he even see in that black hearted man? The sole purpose of his lingering presence was to grow strong enough to defeat Goku or as he put it 'Kakkarot'. The prince chose to grow stronger on his enemies own turf, which honestly puzzled Bulma, igniting curiosity, which could be dangerous. She didn't understand him. He was an enigma. An enigma who threatened your life and your dignity, yet when the moment had presented itself he would walk away without even placing a finger. This also ignited more dangerous curiosity.

What a damned fool, no…a coward, or maybe there was more to him than he was leading on. No, he was a coldhearted prince, who was in it for his own selfish desires, or so Bulma had only seen.

Her arm draped over the edge of her seat as she tilted her head to the night sky, reaching for her ridiculously full wine glass. Gripping the cool glass between her index finger and thumb, she slowly glided it to her lips, parting them and allowing the blood red liquid to slip through and trickle down her throat. The sky was black, dappled with brilliant stars. It was a beautiful canvas, a canvas that soothed her tired mind after a full day's work. Setting down her glass, Bulma took another drag of her cigarette. Smoke escaped through her relaxed nostrils, filling the clear, windless air around her. Her hazy eyes shifted toward the empty gravity machine.

It had been two long weeks since she had seen the damn thing running, let alone lay eyes upon the prince of arrogance. He hadn't shown his face, not after proving he was not one to keep to his word and most likely feeling rather pathetic about it. His eyes were wild that night, telling a different story. From all the terrible deeds he had committed in his life, he couldn't follow through and just kill her, or defile her? Was there…

Bulma grunted and shook her head, pursing her lips. How could she think such a preposterous thing? Though, she couldn't help but feel a little off her rocker as well. The man hadn't shown up for days. She had sifted through ever capsule in her father's inventory just to be completely sure that the monkey hadn't stolen a ship and skipped out on the Z fighters. Goku was counting on all the fighters he could get. To have that fool steal a ship and leave him when they all needed him, she didn't know what she would have done. Nothing was stolen. He just hadn't returned. A few more days went by and finally she paid a visit to the gravity machine. Logging in and sifting through the data saved in the computers, Bulma instantly figured out how he had been avoiding her. The asshole had been staying away all day, coming back at around three in the morning, training, showering and leaving. How had he been getting food? Her mother, kami bless her pathetic soul, had been leaving him snacks in his bedroom in hopes he would return, yet failed to mention to her that she had been restocking them daily.

Vegeta was still living off of Capsule Corp, yet he was doing it when no one would bother him, for they would be sleeping soundly in their beds. That pathetic little worm. Steam was nearly shooting from her ears when she had figured it out. He was ungrateful, uncaring. Her mother had done so much for him during his stay to keep him comfortable and 'happy'. Bulma had even endured terrible hours of scrutiny and failure creating training machines for his damn disposal. Things were so terrible living under their roof, yes, three meals a day, snacks, a warm bed, and a training facility. Sounded like jail to her. If he wanted to stay he needed to play by their rules, not his. He may have been a prince of a once existing planet, but that had come to pass. His barbaric tendencies were started to become too much to handle, even though it had been weeks, and honestly she should be grateful… But if he were to return how much more of this could she bear?

Her arm shot out, taking ahold of her wine glass and holding it close to her face. Her eyes shifted, observing the expensive bottle of wine, chilling on ice. It wouldn't be long until it was all gone, that much was certain. Releasing a sigh, Bulma tucked a tight curled lock behind her ear and took another sip. Yes, alone to deal with her own thoughts. The silence was nice, allowing her to figure out what she would say to the bastard when he did decide to show his ugly mug. So, until then she would ponder, drink her wine and enjoy the weekend. Weekends, Capsule Corp was closed giving her a break to sort out not only the Saiya-jin issue but her _other_ issues. Her phone illuminated once again, vibrating and skidding across the glass table. This was the tenth time it had rang, yet went to voicemail and for one specific reason.

She didn't wish to speak to Yamcha…

Yes, they had their ups and downs over the years. Many years had been invested in their relationship. Too many, actually, and she figured that was the problem. They were young, inexperienced. She had loved him dearly at one point and dealt with his flirty ways as a boy. Yamcha had always been good-looking, knowing that merely egged on his behavior toward young women who would pile around Capsule Corp just to see him. Back then the sequence of events went as follows: Anger, a few threats, and then forgiveness which they would fall back in love and never ever leave one another, well for a few weeks at least.

Time slowly went by and they matured, finally embarking on a different relationship even though they had been off and on in their teens. Yamcha had been her first lover, and honestly their love life had been amazing and filled with passion. She truly loved Yamcha with all her heart and would do anything for him, but she wasn't that love sick little girl anymore. The world was a large place and she realized that she needed…she needed to find herself. God, she hated saying that. Bulma had grown up, and she needed to experience life without Yamcha in order to find herself. Being dead more than once had taken its toll. She had been a lonely woman, dealing with one terrible loss after another. Now, the earth was being threatened and their futures were at risk, her eyes were opened. She needed time for her, not for her and Yamcha. That was just what she had to do.

Of course she felt like a terrible person for ignoring him, but what else was she to do? She had already explained it to the best of her abilities, yet he refused to hear her. Her last resort was to ignore his visits and phone calls, hoping it would click. They needed this time apart, and once he understood they couldn't consider themselves 'together', only then could they mend their friendship. Until then, she needed this time away from him.

The screen lit up again. God, would he ever stop? Finally she caved. Bulma flicked her cigarette and snatched up her phone. Biting her lower lip, she answered and pressed it to her ear, "Hello?"

_Bulma, I have been calling all day, are you okie?_

She closed her eyes and tapped her fingers upon her lips, "Yeah," she said softly.

_Look, I know you wanted time, but I cannot stop thinking about us. Do you really want to throw away over a decade of time spend together. We have built…_

"I know, Yamcha. It isn't being I don't love you. I have told you that. I just think…," She paused feeling like a fool for answering the damned phone in the first place.

_What? Bulma, tell me…it is…_

"I think that we need to experience life without one another. Yamcha, I think we are better friends. Please, don't make me repeat myself. When I said I needed time, I meant it. Every word of it, I meant." She said against the speaker.

_Tell me once thing, and I will not say another word._

"What?" Bulma asked, clearing her throat.

_Is…is everything alright…with…?_

Bulma couldn't help but smile, knowing how self-conscious he had become after that little dream she had spoken about the day Vegeta had arrived back, "Yes, everything is just fine. If everything was not fine, trust me I wouldn't be answering the phone. Vegeta goes big or goes home, you know that," She forced a small smiled on her wine stained lips.

_Good, I am glad…_

"I got to go," She whispered, glancing around the perimeter of the house.

_Just one more minute…_

"Good night," Bulma said, hanging up on the man, not allowing him to argue with her. To keep the problem from repeating another ten plus times, Bulma powered off her phone. Setting it down, she leaned back comfortably in her chair and sipped her wine, reaching for her pack of smokes and retrieving another.

What time was it anyway? If her eyes hadn't mistaking her, she thought her phone had read nearly 1 a.m.

What was she doing, staying up so late? Oh yes, drinking and smoking herself into oblivion while stewing about how terrible the all mighty Saiya-jin prince was. What was the damn point? The fool wouldn't change no matter what evidence was provided against him. He was ruthless and would continue to be a lonely asshole until the day he died, and in all honestly, she didn't give one care.

So, where was she? Oh yes…what would she say to him?

Bulma pulled her legs tightly to her chest, resting her arms upon the knees and she continued to sip her wine and enjoyed the amazing buzz that was coming from the red liquid. Lighting another smoke, she leaned her head back, deciding that a little shut eye would help dull the ache a little more. Lord only knows what the pain would have felt like if alcohol hadn't been introduced. A moment of shut eye soon led to one minute, which led to ten minutes. Before long, her cigarette slipped from her draped hand and dropped to the deck, rolling over the edge of her veranda and into the grass. The wine glass stayed in her hand, luckily, yet slowly started to lean. Bulma drifted off into slumber, completely unaware that the brief moment of shut eye to ease her headache would cause her to drift off to sleep.

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A shadow drifted over the sleeping form of the woman. Wine had poured all over her pink pajamas, creating a lovely red patch on her chest. Her head was lulled to the side and a terrible snore erupted without waking the woman. A stream of glistening drool ran down the side of her chin as she uncomfortably cradled herself in a wooden chair. It wasn't her first choice, but her brain shut down, and shut down hard not awaking her for even a moment. The shadow leaned in, inspecting her face, taking notice of the drool and sneered in disgust. Pulling back, he leaned over and gripped a large piece of shattered glass upon the floor. He inspected it, not sure what it once was. He turned his attention to the noise under his steps. Glass crunched under his boots with each step.

Placing the shattered pieces on the small table near the slumbering form, he stood to full height, glancing through the glass of the sliding door toward the small bed in the middle of the room, and then glided his eyes back down toward her. He reached in and snatched the neck of the wine bottle, lifting it to his nose, getting a whiff. The dry liquid sent a chill down his spine as a look of pure disgust took form on his already cold features. Glaring down at the female who was deep asleep, he kicked the leg of the chair, jerking her body once.

Bulma moaned softly and placing her arms around her head, barely cracking an eye. Another sharp kick to her chair leg and it went crashing into the siding, not hard enough to hurt the slumbering woman or the home. She mumbled under her breath, reaching down the length of her body as if feeling for a blanket to cover her chilled form with, shielding the cool air.

"Human," A gruff voice spoke harshly, cutting through the darkness and barely brushing her consciousness.

"No," Bulma whispered, shielding her eyes with her fore arm.

"I said wake up, female. Your clothing is dirtied and smells of that god awful alcohol you have been poisoning yourself with. Open your blasted eyes, stupid blue haired wench," He nearly shouted, reaching down and gripping the wooden leg, ripping it clean from the bottom causing the chair to flip on its side. Tumbling head first, Bulma rolled across the veranda's platform. Her legs flipped downward, straddling the pillars of the veranda. A loud gasp escaped her lips as her head collided with the hard wood, waking her from her deep sleep. Still delirious, her lids peeled away from her blue eyes, shifting them around the night sky and then searching around her for the reasoning for her awkward position. They landed upon the erect shadow form. Arms crossed and legs parted, she took notice that her 'attacker' and had yet find her words.

"What…?"

"The alcohol has made you stupid, so I see," His gruff voice bit through the air, drawing out a rebellious grumble from the stumbling woman. She had finally figured it out, took long enough.

"Vegeta," Bulma seethed.

"I see you are now fully conscious, where are your keys?" He asked, rather rudely, but that was to be expected.

"What in kami's name is your damn problem?" She shouted, pointing a finger at him, pursing her lips, holding her chin high.

"Once again, female, I wish to have the keys."

"Well, consider the keys none existent until you can apologize." Bulma said, "And if you even think about hurting me, which after your stunt two weeks prior I doubt you will, guess what buddy, no more machines, no more anything for you," Venom dripped from each syllable.

"I will do no such thing. Apologize," He grunted, "I told you to wake up; you didn't listen, so I resorted to breaking the leg, rolling you off of the damn thing, which I gained your attention. So, where is it?" He extended his _bandaged_ arm. The thick material had, no doubt, been stolen from her collection and applied by none other than the-royal-pain-in-the-ass himself. The wrap job was hideous and from the looks of it, infected. The _flesh wounds _had, no doubt, turned rancid. From the look of it, the bandages bore a yellowish tint, most likely due to the lack of care and sleep, not taking care of his body to allow it to heal. This man was a Saiya-jin, no doubt, so why hadn't he healed properly? Weren't they superior beings? 

Shifting her attention back to his cold features, allowing what he had just said to process, "It was because I was _sleeping_…you damn monkey" Bulma screamed, baring her own teeth, "Of course I wasn't listening."

"I am no monkey," Vegeta's eyes darkened, taking a step toward her.

"I don't care what you think you aren't, but getting your hands on that key isn't one of them." Bulma brushed her hair from her angry eyes.

"Fine, then I will break down the door. I should have done so in the first place," the flame haired Saiya-jin said, releasing energy from under his heels and stepped up on the edge of the veranda. The man gripped the wood and prepared to fly down to the ground toward her shop.

"Hold on there, you will not blast a hole through my door. You will wreck everything," Bulma stepped forward and gripped his upper arm. Yanking mercilessly, she paused hearing his malicious chuckle in response to her pathetic behavior.

"If you wish for your little work space to stay tidy, than I suggest you offer me the key, or I will take extreme measures. No one gets in the way of my training, female." His dark eyes nearly glowed as he looked down upon her shocked features.

"Fine, I will get you the damn keys, but lock it up when you are done. What do you need anyway? I could have gotten it for you in the morning. Why at," She paused, searching for a none existent clock, but something told her it was close to his usual time of 3 am.

"Because I didn't wish to resort to this," He grumbled, growing tired of their silly conversing, "Stop wasting time, I want it **now**," He breathed.

Swiping a hand through the air, Bulma began her own grumbling under her breath and stepped toward her sliding door. Her eyes widened and a random scream escaped her lips as she dropped to her knees. Her eyes widened as a sharp pain shot through her foot. Vegeta leaned back, watching as she went down.

"If this is a way to stall me, I am not impressed," He crossed his arms over his flexing chest.

"Shut up," Bulma moaned, sliding to her rear and pulling her foot upward, in order for her to see what it was that caused her pain.

A gleaming shard of glass stuck from the bottom of her heel, shooting throbbing pain up her leg. Bulma clenched her eyes tightly shut and released a groan. Glancing around her, it finally hit her. The glass she had been holding upon falling asleep had been released and broke across the floor. Some pieces must have fallen through the cracks, but others lingered.

"Just pull it free. That is what you get for drinking yourself into a stupor." He raised a brow, not feeling sorry for her.

"I didn't drink myself into a stupor, you idiot. I just feel asleep." She retorted.

"Yes, that is why you fell asleep with a glass in your hand," His dark brow cocked.

"What do you know," Bulma breathed, wrinkling her nose at him. Pushing up, she searched the ground as she pried the door open and hobbled in on one foot. She sat upon the edge of her bed and lifted her foot, nodding toward her jewelry box.

"It is in there, go ahead and take it." She said softly.

Stepping toward her, the Saiya-jin prince leaned in, gripped her ankle to force it high in the air. Her pajama pant leg dropped down the length of her calf, causing her to swallow. Rather thankful it was a gloved hand, he awkwardly pressed her foot back, exposing the heel to his black eyes. Peeling away one glove, the man brushed his warm, calloused hand across the length of her foot, as if feeling for shards. Happy to see it was just the large one, he gripped it between his fingers and pulled it free, rather painlessly. The sharp pains were gone almost instantly. He tossed the shard in her bedrooms trash can, and dropped her foot carelessly.

"I…Um… Thank you?" Bulma tilted her head to the side, confused by his quick action.

"I didn't want to hear you whine and bitch any longer," With that he turned, sliding back on his glove and opened her jewelry box. Holding up a key he raised a brow in questioning, "This it?"

Bulma's lips were parted, still a little shocked by his warm gesture. With one stupid look and an awkward nod, she smiled finally speaking, "Uh, yeah."

"I don't wish to come back up here, female." Vegeta grumbled, clenching the keys.

"Yes, that is the one," She nodded.

He grunted and headed for the door, "Vegeta,"

He stopped, yet didn't once look over his shoulder to meet her eyes, "Never mind," She whispered, and with that he disappeared to begin training.

….

…

..

.

.

..

…

….

…oOoOoOo…

~Mallie-3


	3. Chapter 3

Unlikely Pair

Chapter 3

Royal Challenge: Point of no Return

Dark/Light Challenge: Battle scars, skin cuts

A/N: This is a little before the scene where Bulma catches him in the gravity machine, as seen in the Anime. Again this is a ficlet, which will have short chapters. This story is my take on the mysterious three-years. First attempt, and what can I say? I am having fun with this. :)

...oOoOoOo...

_He really did it this time..._

The ventilator had been running since the moment they put him in this room. It had been acting as a healing agent for his damaged lungs. The good thing was he was properly breathing on his own. After inhaling all the smoke and most likely debris from the explosion, she was almost positive his lungs would have sustained more trauma. Thank goodness for his saiyan blood, she supposed. Bulma tended him for a few days. The skin covering his chest and arms were nothing but skin cuts today, thanks to her constant attention. Dry and clean was her goal. The wounds, which existed a few days past, had already rapidly healed due to his race and again she stressed how lucky he was.

She approached him, tracing a fingertip over the white wrappings across his forehead. His face was calm, as if he had drifted off into a dreamless sleep. He looked younger when he didn't contort his face into such an ill suited grimace. His features were pleasing to her, almost tender when he was sleeping. He could stay a sleep for a while longer, Bulma figured. It was the closest she was allowed without a his highness cursing her out, or him cringing away from her. His muscled chest rose with a sharp intake of breath, causing his brows to knit. The blue haired heiress held her breath, placing her fingers to her lips as she looked him over. Not even a flutter of his eyes. He was still sound asleep, as he should be with the amount of pain killers they were giving him so he would heal properly before they allowed him to wake. Though, she couldn't help but take notice to his increase of brain activity and heart rate on the monitors. It wouldn't be long, his body was growing restless. Another ill suited trait to have when he usually was constantly obtaining injuries like he did.

Pulling up a chair, she sat next time him, crossing her arms over her chest. Her pink lips pursed as she regarded him quickly.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Bulma asked his sleeping form, "You are a damned fool, and lets not forget prideful," She whispered, allowing her eyes to trace the length of his chest again. The bandages were fresh, for she had just changed them a few hours ago.

Bulma reached in to grip to edge of the sheet with her fingertips, pulling it back from his naked flesh. Her fingertips brushed across the old battle scars, which married his flesh. There were so many. Where they deserved? Did he receive a beating for killing an innocent person, or was this because of cruel treatment? Even though this man laying before her deserved every pain he had experienced, she couldn't help but allow her heart to break for him as her mind pondered the possibility to 'how', as he was a young man under the cruel rule of a tyrant.

Even so, he had always seemed so devoted to the one thing he believed in. He wanted to get stronger, he wanted to prove himself. He was like no other person. Goku enjoyed a spar and the challenge of the spar, but this man acted differently, almost in an military sort of way. He wouldn't give up. That was what ultimately what had led him to where he was at this particular moment. Badly wounded, bound to a bed and on ventilators. Bulma glanced up from her index finger, which was currently stroking a white scar upon his chest, toward the slow drip of the IV.

Withdrawing her hand from his chest to her own, Bulma leaned back against her chair and frowned, rubbing her eyes. This won't happen again, she couldn't allow it to. He had pushed the gravity machine to explosion. He would just have to realize that rough treatment wasn't going to get him anywhere; that machines could do extensive damage when pushing them to the extreme. Would he tone it down? She chuckled to herself, wiping her thumb across her lips.

_Doubtful._

"Bulma," A deep voice called from the hall.

She jumped slightly, turning quicker than she originally intended and blinked rapidly. Her blue gaze met the small figure of her father, who was slowly approaching from the hallway.

"Yes, dad?" She asked, biting the tip of her thumbnail.

"The gravity machine is back up to speed. I increased it's capabilities. Hopefully we won't have to deal with another explosion, so long as Vegeta understands that it will have its limits."

Bulma chuckled softly, "He doesn't even have limits, dad. He won't understand that a machine would have them," Her shoulders shrugged, "The most we can do is allow him his sleep, get him well enough and then worry about the 'machine' topic at a later time." Her eyes slipped back toward the slumbering Saiyan, worrying about what would happen when his body finally allowed him to wake.

Dr. Briefs moved his mustache and sucked in his breath upon watching his daughter with the man. He uncrossed his arms over his jacket, "Bulma?"

Bulma didn't take her eyes off the sleeping form of the wounded man, she merely grunted in response.

"Never mind," her father smiled beneath his mustache, slipping back though the halls of Capsule Corp.

…

…

A few days had passed since Dr. Breifs had made some significant changes on the gravity capsule. Bulma wasn't completely sure that even a slight boost in the systems capabilities would even change anything. So, for the next few days, Bulma prepared more bots, sifted through the newest system her father had restored and made some changes of her own.

How long would this machine stay as nice as it was? Before long the floors would be scoffed, the air would contain the pungent oder of sweat, and the repairs would only start to pile up, forcing her to the brink of insanity. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she allowed this ridiculous machine to be rebuilt and revamped? Questioning her logic time and time again, Bulma never once went back on add ons and increases for the machine. Yes, this was an important tool for this man in order for them to defeat their foe in their future.

Without training, none of the warriors would ever be ready to face the creatures coming to light. Her stomach grew queasy every time she sat dwelling on this 'good cause'. It always started out positive. For the good of the planet, and then slowly darkness would creep into her mind, wrap around it and poison it with thoughts of her friends and family dying at the mercy of those... things... That was a possibility, even after all this hard work on her friends behalf. Even after these three years pass, who says their effort to become strong enough will work? What if these man made creatures become too powerful? What if they have no limit?

Brushing blue hair from her eyes, pressing the headband back against her poof of hair. Glancing to the side, the heiress collected all the nuts and bolts, wrenches, and screwdrivers she had tossed to the side and opened her tool box. Tossing the goods back into place, Bulma secured her tool box and stood, heading to the door to call it a day.

Her head was pounding and the last time she ate was breakfast, which was at 'bright-and-early-o-clock'. She rid of her gear and walked naked from her bedroom to the shower, leaving a trail of clothing behind her.

A hot shower had felt exquisite, relieving her of all her daily frustrations. If only there were a swinging chair in the shower, located directly under the shower head... Bulma's blue eyes cracked and a small smile formed on her lips.

_Note to self... create this chair ASAP... Add to my laziness..._

Slipping from the enveloping warmth of the shower into the unwelcome coolness of her bathroom, Bulma stepped across the bathmats, running her fingers through the wet ringlets of blue hair cascading over her shoulders. Swiping her hand across the mirror, Bulma placed a towel over her head, meshing the water droplets from her tendrils.

Slipping into something more comfortable and starting to feel normal once again, she made her way down the long hallways of Capsule Corporation. The television from the living room could be heard echoing through the massive hallways as her mother watched her nightly drama flick. Her father was no where to be found. She could only guess he had locked himself in his workshop. He tended to work into the night. Bulma could not count how many times she had scolded that man on how important sleep was. Of course in mid-rant, she would find that she was being rather hypocritical, especially with the 'Saiyan prince' living under their roof.

Slipping into the kitchen, Bulma retrieved a glass from the cupboard, glided toward the refrigerator, and pulled the pitcher of water from its cooled environment. She poured a heavy amount and began to gulp it down. Tilting her head back to receive every last droplet withing the container. She softly sighed, swiping the back of her hand across her lips and lifting her line of vision toward the gravity machine. Her heart leaped in her chest the moment the 'hum' graced her ears. Licking her lips and set down the glass. Her fingertips lightly drummed on the edge of the granite counter tops as her blue eyes focused on the machine.

There were no lights and soon within a few moments of quiet listening, Bulma couldn't hear the hum of the machine any longer. Her eyes creased, confused by what she had just witnessed. Was the machine turning on by itself? Glancing over her shoulder, the young woman pursed her lips and shifted her weight upon the balls of her feet. She treaded none too lightly toward the hallways and rushed up the staircase leading the the bedrooms of Capsule Corporation.

Vegeta's door was now closed. Bulma nearly burst through, eyes darting to the empty bed in the middle of the room. The machines were beeping madly, ventilator mask destroyed, and cords hung every which way. Placing her fingers across her mouth, Bulma allowed a small gasp of shock to slip through her lips. Where was he? Her worried gaze focused on the double doors that lead to the veranda, which was currently wide open. The curtains floated in mid-air as a light breeze brushed across the small bedroom. Rushing to the edge of the open doors, she paused, for something had caught her eye. A small light illuminated a strip at the bottom of the bathroom door.

Shifting upon the balls of her feet, Bulma slipped close to the door to press her ear against the cool wood. Shuffling could be heard within as well as soft grunts. She placed her trembling knuckles across the wood, contemplating her decision. Tightly closing her eyes and reopening them, the blue haired woman knocked softly and called to him.

"Vegeta," She said just above a whisper, "Are you alright? I didn't realize..." she paused, licking her lips nervously before reaching for the handle, "I didn't realize you had awaken, why... why didn't you...," She pushed the door open, and across the floor he sat sprawled with ten feet of wrappings pooled around him. Blood had begun to seep through many of his bandaged wounds, including the deepest ones upon his sides. Why were they bleeding so terribly? They were almost healed the last time she had changed them. The only way they could have been torn open like that was if someone has been vigorously spar... Bulma shook her head.

"Oh my god, are you..."

"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" Vegeta snapped, feral eyes narrowing as he paused in mid-wrap.

"I... thought...," she stumbled over her words, most likely sounding incompetent.

"No, you didn't think, female. Is that what you call common curtsy? Walking in on someone in the bathroom?" He snarled, instantly tightening his fist as he slipped the wrapping once more around his flexing mid-section.

"Look," Bulma snapped, "I only came up here to check on you, the gravity machine... I thought it was on and...," Her eyes slipped up to meet his cold black stare and then his lower lip twitched with agitation.

"I am not a child," Vegeta spoke harshly, wincing once again as he continued to wrap his bloodied side. To Bulma his statement seemed more of a means to argue a point, and that let her know he was the one responsible for the machine being on.

"Are you feeling ok?" Bulma asked, placing a hand across her forehead, "Please tell me I didn't hear the gravity machine, because if you used it in this state you are a bigger fool than I thought."

"If you must know, mother, I did use the gravity machine. I have spent enough time in that blasted bed, what day is it anyway?" He grumbled, "You know what, no more talking, wench, I wish to be left to my business. Leave me," The saiyan prince demanded, slicing his hand violently through the air.

"Look, Vegeta, you aren't healed. To be completely honest, I am shocked you are awake. Let me take your vitals at least," she stepped back, looking toward the nightstand for her medical kit, but paused she a rumble of anger emoted from the man's throat.

"I said NO," he said through gritted teeth, lifting his coal black eyes to meet her wide eyed look of shock, "Leave me," Vegeta repeated.

"Why do you resist all the time? I knew this would happen, Vegeta."

"For the love of gods, woman, leave me before I blast a bloody hole through your chest," he snarled, forcing his fist through the tiles and into the wooden floor boards.

Her blue eyes darked, as yet more repairs due to his anger already begun and he hasn't even been conscious for long,"Fine," Bulma muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, "If you die, it is because of your own stupidity."

"Yes, please allow me to go on about my business. If I wanted a nursemaid, I surely wouldn't have chosen you," The black haired man looked her up and down, "Pathetic... weakness,"

Bulma flinched, " I cannot wait until your pain medication wears off, asshole."

Vegeta glared up at her one last time, deciding to ignore her very existence. Turning on her heel, Bulma slipped through the doorway of his room, slamming his door for good measure and stomping down the corridors of her father's facility with meaning. Reaching her father's work place, Bulma barged through his cracked door and extended her palm.

Blue eyes blazing, she pursed her lips and wiggled her fingers, "Where is the key?"

Dr. Brief's jumped, nearly dropping his utensils in mid-moment on his most recent creation. His cigarette dropped from his lips, causing his mouth and mustache to tremble.

"Key?" His thick gray brows furrowed in confusion.

"The gravity machine, I am locking it up. If he thinks he can do whatever he wishes around here, he is dead wrong." Wiggling her fingers against, she shook her head, "Mother..." She made a rude noise with her lips shaking her head, "I'll show that saiyan asshole what type of mother I can be, hand it over, dad," She spoke forcefully.

"Of course, dear," He fumbled through his jacket, retrieving the key and handing it over with no questions asked.

"Thank you, and whatever you do, don't give into his antics. He is all bark."

"Yes, dear," He merely chuckled, picking up his fallen cigarette, placing it between his thin lips. His blue eyes widened slightly as he watched her slip back into the hallway, grumbling to herself. With a small shrug, a quick drag of his cigarette, and a pat on Scratch's head, Dr. Briefs was back to work. Of course it didn't take long before the Saiyan prince had figured out her little plan. The next few weeks were hell for her, as she tried to keep him at bay while his body was in the process of healing. It was no use trying, as the workout junky stopped at nothing to get his fix. What was his reason? Well, the only thing she ever heard him mutter, of course, and that was to become this 'Super Saiyan' and beat Kakkarot.

Of course her master plan to keep him out of the machine failed, for to keep the door locked only meant havoc... and her parents loved their yard, pets, and house... and all in one piece.

...oOoOoOo...

-Mallie-3


End file.
